First Frost
by sweet-surrender5
Summary: GSR, a sabbatical fic. A little late, but here nonetheless. Please check it out!


_**a/n:** It's new fic time! Sorry I've been away for so long. This time of year makes the world turn upside down. Snow doesn't seem to be the only thing I'm buried in at the moment. Anyway, I know this is a bit late since Grissom's already come back in canon, but better late then never, right? So here it is. Thanks to **mingsmommy **who found the GAPING plotholes in this that I was stupid enough not to see. I managed to somehow find a way to make a bridge over the giant crevaces in this thing, but if you find yourself falling down one, I'm sorry. I was too tired (and fine, slightly too lazy) to fill the whole thing in. So shoot me. Joking! Anyway, this is a four-part fic, and it soon will be five if i don't stop rambling, so here it is._

* * *

**"First Frost"**

**... I ...**

* * *

Grissom drove from the airport in his rental car feeling so many feelings he didn't know where to start. It was like his stomach weighed a million pounds and his head was at 1000 feet. He hadn't really wanted to leave Vegas, but now that he had, he was starting to feel that little rush of excitement at starting something new.

On his own. Again.

He didn't know what it would be like to be alone. Would he go back to his old ways easily, or would he be hung up on his newer lifestyle? He had no idea.

The rental car was a little Volvo. Quite a bit different from his old Mercedes-Benz classic or his work-SUV. It was a little beat up and the air freshener barely managed to hide the tell-tale smell of stale MacDonald's from its previous rental owner, but hey, it got him from A to B, right?

Hopefully.

He had sat in the car after picking it up from the airport rental service, letting it idle for a bit. He'd flipped open his CD case, looking for something to listen to on the drive to Concord, Massachusetts. He had meant to pick out something more to his taste, but found one that wasn't his. With a sad smile, he'd slid it into the disc player, hoping it would remind him of what he could look forward to after it was all said and done.

The car had been idling for a few minutes when the first song came on, but it was still borderline freezing. Massachusetts was colder in the throes of winter than he'd expected. He hoped his small collection of sweaters would be enough to keep him warm for the upcoming weeks.

Weeks.

It sounded so long all of a sudden. A year ago, if you had said "in a couple of weeks" to Gil Grissom it would have seemed like tomorrow. But now…weeks seemed like forever. He'd realized that there just weren't enough hours in a day.

He squinted out of the windshield at the road. His sunglasses did little to dim the bright reflection of the late November sun on the snow that dusted the northeast. The highway was small; nothing more than a two lane road lined by trees and the occasional pond.

There was no doubt that the East was beautiful, but there was also no doubt that eventually, Grissom would miss home for the first time in twenty years.

* * *

Sara was in the locker room getting ready for her next shift when her cell started to ring the theme of Fur Elise. She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile as she realized that he'd been tampering with her phone again. After shoving her hands into about thirty different pockets, she brandished the little Samsung and flipped it open. 

"Sidle," she answered.

"Hey."

Sara hated to use clichés, but she swore her heart skipped a beat at the sound of the rough voice on the other end of the line. Actually, her chest began to hurt as silence passed between them for a few moments. She could hear her John Denver CD playing in the background… 'Country Roads', if she wasn't mistaken.

How ironic.

"I, uh…Sorry I didn't call before. Just wanted to get on the road right away. Snow can be challenging to drive in."

"It's snowing?" She asked, sitting down on the bench and tucking her hair behind her ear.

"No, but its cold enough to. There's already a little bit of snow on the ground here, actually."

"You're on your cell? I thought you said you hated people drove and talked on cells at the same time. What was it, the second major cause of car accidents these days, you said, Griss?" She teased. The jab made the conversation just a little more lighthearted, even if for just a few moments.

"I figured I'd make an exception."

Grissom's voice was low and quiet, and Sara knew he was being completely serious. She felt another sharp stab in her chest. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and tried to ignore it. Silence followed for a few more seconds, nothing but the faint sounds of country music from Grissom's end. It wasn't an awkward silence, but it was heavy with words that neither could find the power to say.

"I'll just--"

"Well, I--"

They started to talk at the same time. Embarrassed but laughing, they both stopped talking.

"Ladies first," Grissom's slow, intuitive tenor that she found so captivating filled her ears. She wished she could see him right now. Her last time with him had been in the very same room she was sitting in now. She remembered him standing nervously in the doorway, his fingers touching each other as he toyed with them. Almost like the childhood rhyme of making steeples with tiny fingers. She'd wanted to kiss him so badly, but she'd feared breaking down right then. No, that would be saved until she was in the safety of her apartment.

"Oh…well I was just gonna say I better get going. Shift just started and Catherine's probably getting a little antsy…"

Sara's voice cracked a little on the last few words, halfway between a laugh and a sob – a testament to the wrenching pain in her stomach coupled with the elated feeling of her heart. If Grissom had heard it, he didn't let on.

"Oh, okay, Honey," he sounded reluctant to end the call.. Sara's eyes stung when he called her that. She missed his voice already. "How 'bout I call you when I get all set up, okay?"

Sara nodded and then realized that he couldn't see her.

"'Kay. Well…talk to you later, Griss."

Silence followed along the line for a moment, void of anything but static and the sound of John Denver playing softly.

"_Country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong…"_

"Yeah," came his gruff reply, interrupting Sara's thoughts of home. Home with Grissom, whether it was her place or his, or together in the lab, or even at a scene…Grissom _was _home. But then again, sometimes you need to get away from home for a while before it suffocates you.

Maybe that was what Grissom felt when he left.

"Bye," his voice was tender and quiet. Sara heard him breathe for a few moments, then the click as he hung up. She kept the phone to her ear for another minute or two, just because she was so wrapped up inside her thoughts she didn't realized that the dial tone was sounding over and over. She was too busy thinking;

No matter how long you're gone for, coming home can be just as needed as going.

* * *

The first week went by like molasses moved in January in Alert, Nunavut.

For Grissom it was filled with handshakes and suck-up conversations, bug-books and specimens, snow and slippery walkways. For Sara, it had been filled with Chinese food and diet coke, dead people and messy cases, lemons and vanilla conditioner. For both, that one week contained stilted phone conversations, definate frustration, and sleepless nights under cool covers.

Nothing seemed to be going right. Grissom was seriously regretting having gone in the first place, and Sara was seriously regretting having let him go without incident. It seriously seemed like his leaving had caused more problems than the first time he'd rejected her.

It was hard. And it was annoying. It was a fucking nuisance.

And there was still 21 days of torture left.

* * *

When Saturday night had finally rolled around, Grissom sat on the couch in the faculty residence, having successfully determined that there was absolutely _nothing _on TV. Why was television such worthless drivel these days? He – again -- had no idea. Having already set out his research books, he sat at his desk, wondering what to do.

Usually ('usually' meaning in more recent times) he'd have Sara to occupy his time. Whether they were making something to eat, or watching something from her extensive DVD collection, or just talking, or dare he think about it (for it made him ache for her) making love, Sara kept him busy.

But without her…Grissom was back to his old routine. He suddenly had no idea what he used to do with his time away from the lab. Oh yeah, he remembered…_what _time away from the lab?

Trying to keep his thoughts from Sara, the lab, and anything related to Vegas, he opened his favorite book of poetry and sat back in his chair. His fingers found their way over the well-worn pages.

A Shakespearean sonnet caught his eye and he knew that that would be the perfect thing to get him caught up into his own world of literature. Thinking about meanings and phrasing and using bits of history to understand significance; things that Grissom was good at, that he could do and get completely lost in.

But as he started reading, he got completely lost in something else. Instead of getting lost in Shakespeare's feelings, he found himself lost in his own. Thoughts of her had again invaded his mind, and he realized how often he really did think of her. She was always there, a thought in his mind. And yet when he left her for four weeks, all he had been able to do was tell her his cab was waiting?

For Chrissakes, it had taken him almost two whole minutes to work up the pluck to tell her he'd miss her. What the hell was wrong with him? After all Grissom had gone through, that was all he could do. After learning as much as he could about her, about being with her, and after learning to think about someone else…After learning things that he was never taught in university or in his job.

After learning what it was to actually _feel, _Grissom could only stand half a room away from the woman who had changed his life and dumbly say that he'd miss her?

He needed to fix this.

Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a pen and a perfectly aged piece of paper and began to write. He'd only ever really handed in anything but essays and proofs since high school, but Grissom was a bit of a closet-writer. He often kept books that he'd write random things in to remember or just to have. He liked to put down what he couldn't say in words and save them for future reference, like some day he could go back to them and somehow magically be able to say them.

_Sara, _

Grissom began his script a perfect cursive, perfected by years of practice. He never used handwriting at work but at home, by himself, his loopy, romantic letters conveyed every part of him onto the paper, his fingers moving from thought to thought just as quickly as his brain.

_Our parting was awkward, I don't know why I find it so difficult to express my feelings for you._

He paused for a moment, his pen poised in air, waiting for the right words to flow out like the ink from the body.

_I left without saying a proper goodbye and I apologize. Ever since I left I have been mauling it over, wondering how I could muddle things up so badly. I have never been one to be able to show people exactly what I'm feeling, and I know that you understand that. _

Again he paused, unsure of where to move to next, how to lead up to the reason he was writing this letter to her. Then suddenly, eagerly, he knew what to write.

_Since our conversation I can't help but to think of you, Sara. You invade my every thought and action, and suddenly everything reminds me of you. It's like the world is trying to tell me where I really should be. As hard as I tired I could not stop, though it pained me. I could not even lose myself in poetry because I found myself again thinking of you when I read Shakespeare's Sonnet #47;_

_Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,  
And each doth good turns now unto the other:  
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,  
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,  
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,  
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;  
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,  
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:  
So, either by thy picture or my love,  
Thy self away, art present still with me;  
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,  
And I am still with them, and they with thee;  
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight  
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight._

_Again, I apologize for my behavior when I left. If I had known I would feel like this after, I would have tried twice as hard to make my parting better for both of us. We both deserve more than this. _

_When I'm away try to be as cheerful as you always are. Although I'm not there to see that smile of yours, I will find comfort in knowing that it is there. Even though we're far apart, I can see you as vividly as if you were here with me. I said I'll miss you, and I do. _

_Gil _

After signing his name, and his first name only, he held it up to look at it with satisfaction. The words written on that paper were heavy and he felt that they had taken a large burden from his shoulders. Reaching for an envelope, he slid it neatly inside and flipped it over, picking up his pen to write on the front.

_Sara Sidle_

_ 1623 West_

Then, he stopped. The address he was writing was the lab address. Why was he sending it there? Was he assuming that she'd be spending most of her time there? Was he wondering if anyone would read it? Was he questioning even sending it at all?

He didn't know.

He set it down on the blotter and stared at it. Minutes, even hours, could have gone by before he heard the knock at his door. Jumping up, he grabbed his jacket and hurried too answer it, knowing he was late for his dinner engagement with Dr. Martin.

The letter would have to wait.

* * *

_**a/n:** So! Did we lose anyone to the giant plot-crevaces?! I hope not. Please review, I'd appreciate it. Hopefully get part II up soon. Thanks for reading._


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